And So It Goes
by Allison Lane
Summary: Tragedy reunites Percy Weasley with the one person who never expected to see him againwith unforeseen consequences. Sequel to 'Once Touched'.


  


**And So It Goes**

  
  
  
Three years. Not such a very long time, really, and unremarkable in the grand scheme of things. But to me, to my life, it felt like decades. Three years since I'd left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, three years since I'd taken up a career as a junior archival assistant with the Ministry of Magic's Department of Historical Records and become a member of the world at large. Two years since the Triwizard Tournament… two years since Lord Voldemort had risen again, two years of steadily increasing terror amongst the British wizarding population.  
  
Two years since I'd heard anything of Percy Weasley.  
  
To still harbor feelings for a school crush one hadn't seen in forever might have embarrassed most people, but not me. But then, no one but me knew about it. I'd loved Percy since our very first class together at Hogwarts, had admired and respected him above all else; in his absence I found such strong sentiments hard to let go of. Nor did I want to. Percy had become my standard, my model to which I measured everyone else; he was also a kind of comfort, a treasured memory I could pull out in times of need and hug to myself to make me feel better.  
  
He'd never really noticed me, of course. When I realized that there would never be a chance for me with him, I'd made my peace with that fact but continued right on in love. I was content in knowing that Percy was happy with the one he'd chosen, even though his happiness didn't rest with me.  
  
And yet I still carried that torch, and a tiny, deeply buried part of me yearned for more…  
  
However, my mind wasn't dwelling on Percy that one fateful day as I tidied up my small desk space at the Ministry and prepared to head home. It was October 31st, and despite the ongoing war, celebrations for Harry Potter Day were in full swing. That particular holiday had been observed through much of Europe ever since Lord Voldemort's fall at the hands of the infant Potter back in 1981. I myself thought the point of the holiday was rather moot, as Voldemort had _clearly_ not fallen after all, and there were many who had cautioned against the large public gatherings the celebrations inevitably inspired. However, just as many were defiantly refusing to be cowed by fear of Voldemort, and so Harry Potter Day was thus being observed as usual. Diagon Alley promised to be crowded.  
  
And crowded it definitely was. I hadn't expected to see quite so many people crushed into the narrow thoroughfare when I Apparated to the door of Flourish and Blotts. I usually liked to Apparate to Diagon Alley instead of directly home to my small flat above a shop just off that main street, taking in the air and the sights while walking the rest of the way. However, the unexpected size of the gathering in the Alley would certainly prove a hindrance to my customary leisurely walk. Window-shopping was definitely not an option, I mused as I began politely pushing my way through the tightly packed knots of conversation and merriment.  
  
I had just cleared the densest area of the crowd when the world flew to pieces.  
  
It all happened so quickly that my mind was unable to process it until much later. I heard several simultaneous popping noises a fraction of a section before an ear-splitting, deafening boom coincided with a blinding explosion; a sharp pain lanced across my face as I was thrown violently sideways, flying… Then I was stumbling on legs that were bent like broken matchsticks, a terrible burning in my hands and arms and scalp, eyes caked shut, vaguely aware that I was screaming my throat raw and falling forward into a spiraling darkness…   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
The musical tones of a wizarding intercom pager woke me with a start an indeterminate time later.  
  
"It's all right… try to relax," a quiet, tired voice said soothingly. A familiar voice, but one I hadn't heard in quite some time.  
  
"Where…" I mumbled thickly, blinking my left eye slowly as it focused on the wall opposite me. The board with its tacked-up pieces of parchment and photos of waving figures in wizarding scrubs were entirely unfamiliar to me. I blinked again, struggling to clear my vision. My right eye wasn't blinking at all. In fact, it felt as if it had been welded shut. "What is this…?"  
  
"You're in St. Mungo's," the voice said. "In one of the staff rooms. The main infirmary is—it's… full." A strange catch had entered the weary tones of the speaker. "Do you remember anything?"  
  
A disturbing flash of agony flickered in my memory, screaming and crying and the sickly sweet smell of blood… "I—I'm burning," I gasped, the words choking in my throat as my arms involuntarily twitched. My hands. I couldn't feel my hands. "There was a flash—"  
  
My entire body shuddered and I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders, rubbing them, calming me. My eye struggled to readjust its focus on the person leaning over me. "Shh, relax, it's all right," the voice soothed. "No one's going to hurt you any more."  
  
Out of sight, the intercom rang its bell tone again. "Dr. Weasley, you're wanted in the corridor."  
  
The hands left my shoulders. "I'll be back in just a moment," the voice promised, and the retreating footsteps and click of an opening door left me alone in silence.  
  
_Dr. Weasley._  
  
With that voice, there was only one Weasley whom it could belong to.  
  
The door clicked shut; the tapping footsteps returned and with them, the voice of Dr. Weasley. "…Just be gentle, now," the voice was saying quietly, obviously not intending for me to overhear. "She's still in a bit of shock." A flash of red—subdued, not so vivid, not the color running across the blasted cobblestones of Diagon Alley—passed briefly through my field of vision, and my stomach lurched so violently I feared being sick.  
  
It was Percy.  
  
My swollen left eye swiveled to watch as he seated himself in a chair next to my hastily magicked bed. He looked very different from the young man I remembered, even more so than he had appeared on the front page of the Daily Prophet after the disastrous end task of the Triwizard Tournament. He was thinner, somehow taller, but held himself less stiffly. Gone was his air of blind, pompous confidence. Somehow, in a way he'd never been while at Hogwarts, he seemed more mature. The death of Bartemius Crouch, Sr. had evidently forced Percy to do the one bit of growing up he'd never finished.  
  
On my other side, where I couldn't see her, Penelope Weasley—neé Clearwater—had also seated herself. "Do you remember Percy Weasley?" she asked me. "He was a classmate of yours."  
  
Funny, how shallow the heart can be at times. My first meeting with my one true love in three years, on the heels of having barely escaped death, and the first thought to enter my mind was _I wish he didn't have to see me like this..._  
  
How could I forget Percy? When he had been such a large part of my life, even though he'd never known it…  
  
I nodded dumbly, and Percy smiled at me. The smile didn't reach his eyes. I could sense he remembered me as well, and judging from the expression on his face, I didn't look very good. Reflected in his eyes I could see the knowledge that I was lucky to be alive.  
  
However, my only thought was: _He remembers me…_  
  
"Percy is with the Magical Law Enforcement division," Penelope was saying. "He's going to explain to you what happened and, if you're able, ask you a few questions."  
  
The story went as such, Percy speaking in a low, dry voice with just a hint of its old acerbic bite. A scant few minutes after the attack devastated Diagon Alley, a dozen squads of Aurors and M.L.E.S. officers had Apparated onto the scene. Percy's first impression had been one of total destruction: buildings reduced to smoking rubble, far-off screaming and wailing, blood pooled in what remained of the street, bodies—and parts of bodies—strewn everywhere. The Dark Mark hovering above it all. It was very clearly an attack by the Death Eaters, meant to cow any and all defiance of Voldemort's might.  
  
And at Percy's feet a crumpled figure, legs flopped like limp rags, flesh of the arms and hands charred, a great slashing gash across the face, pockets of hair still smoldering, covered in blood. Me.  
  
The order was already being screamed to scramble as many emergency medical units as possible from St. Mungo's; the unhurt and minorly injured bystanders who had been outside the blast radius were beginning to make their way in to help. Percy had thought I was dead, but upon ascertaining I was still alive had immediately magicked me onto a stretcher and called for the first mediwizard unit on the scene. He also sent along a note positively identifying me, to help ease the job of authorities such as him later. It was only by a stroke of coincidence that I had been placed under the care of his wife.  
  
My injuries were substantial. Both my lower legs had been shattered by the impact of the object that had sent me flying; my hands and arms had received third-degree burns, with first-degree burns on parts of my chest and face. The cut there reached from the hairline above my right eye to the jawline on the left side of my face, leaving my right eye damaged. What was left of my hair had portions cut out to remove the singed ends.  
  
Magical medicine was powerful, in many ways better than Muggle medicine, but the nature of my injuries were such that they could not be instantly healed, Penelope explained. A salve had been put on my burns, along with protective bandages, which would need changing every few hours. Repairing my legs would necessitate a few sessions with a bone fusion specialist. As for my eye, the lens had been cut, and would require the services of a specialist as well. She projected that it would take at least a month for me to recover completely.  
  
Percy spoke up again, the compassion in his voice and eyes lancing down to the depths of my soul. "What do you remember?"  
  
I drew in a slow, painful breath, closing my left eye briefly. I felt shattered—shaken to pieces—and Percy's abrupt, unexpected re-entrance into my life had left me badly thrown. "I was walking home," I began, the words thick in my throat. "Two blocks from Gringotts. It was crowded." I had to pause and wet my lips; my mouth was dry. "I heard a noise, like many people Apparating at once, and then an enormous explosion…"  
  
My voice trailed off, and I felt Penelope place a gentle, comforting hand on the bandages that covered my own. The corners of Percy's mouth twitched. "Thank you," he said at length, "for your time. I know how difficult it must be for you, but I believe you're in good hands here." His face was grim, but he smiled across me at his wife. Then he stood. "I do appreciate it."  
  
And just like that, he was gone. Penelope changed my bandages, reapplied the burn salve, and helped me to drink a sleeping potion that would also help to ease my pain. My last thought before succumbing to the darkness was the faint, repeated whisper of the title _Dr. Weasley…_   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
I was such a liar. I told myself that I had no regrets over letting Percy slip through my fingers, as it were, and I certainly had nothing against Penelope. However, Percy's bedside visit had made it painfully clear to me that I most definitely did have regrets, though not of the nature one might expect. For some inexplicable, ridiculous reason I felt _betrayed_… betrayed in the sense that Percy, once the unhappiest person in Gryffindor, had gone on to a life filled with love and happiness while I had been left with no one. A very unfair and unreasonable emotion, but one I felt all the same.  
  
Quite suddenly, I was no longer at peace.   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
By the next evening the doctors had pronounced me out of danger. I can't say that I _felt_ much better, but the vision of my left eye had cleared and I was able to talk normally, so I trusted their judgement.  
  
I also learned that the building my flat was housed in had been destroyed in the Diagon Alley attack. This presented a problem. St. Mungo's was so overwhelmed by the attack—evidenced by my being housed in the _staff_ room—that they wanted to release the less severely injured patients as soon as possible. The doctors declared me fit to go home provided I had a nurse to attend me and could return for my sessions with the bone and optical specialists. However, the truth was I obviously no longer had a home to go to.  
  
But when Penelope Weasley arrived the next morning to change my bandages, she came bearing news. She had heard of my plight and talked it over with Percy; they were both in agreement that I should come and stay with them until I was recovered and back on my feet. Penelope would be granted paid leave to stay with me for my rehabilitation. And that was how I found myself bundled up into a perfectly ordinary Muggle wheelchair, placed in a perfectly ordinary Muggle automobile, being driven out to the Weasley home.  
  
It was not what I had expected. Percy and Penelope lived in a quiet, older, stately neighborhood of London, in a three-story house constructed of old brick and covered in ivy. It was the kind of neighborhood where wrought iron and stone fences divided the properties, with greenhouses out in the back—it reeked of old money. "It's been in my family for a long time," Penelope said of the house when we arrived. "My parents gave it to us as a wedding present. I wasn't sure if Percy would like it here, but he took to it right away—he likes the peace and quiet. Besides," she added, her voice darkening slightly, "the war doesn't reach us here."   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
And so my residence as the invalid guest of the one man I'd ever loved began. At first, I found it almost indescribably odd to adjust to. Percy was home most evenings, and would take over the task of caring for me so Penelope could have time to herself. As a result, I ended up spending more time with him in a month than I had in half our years at Hogwarts. At first, our time together was awkward—at least I felt so. Percy had never been a natural people person, I was afflicted by the insecurity that all those who love suffer at one point or another, and we were both hampered by the years lost between us. However, once the uneasiness was past, it didn't take long at all for the two of us to slip back into the casual, unspoken friendship we'd shared at school. Oftentimes he would pick a book from his and Penelope's library and read to me, since my eyes weren't yet up to the task. Sometimes we would talk, conversations about my work at the Ministry, current events, the nature of the war, and other things in between. And sometimes we simply sat in comfortable silence, Percy leafing through paperwork and I absorbed in my own thoughts.  
  
Needless to say I had quite a few thoughts to ponder, of which some were contradictory, some were pointless, and most were reflective in nature. Seeing Percy again, having him thrust back into my life, had unleashed a flood of memories and emotions upon me that occasionally had me thinking myself a hypocrite where my decision to simply be happy for him was concerned. Mostly, though, I thought about our relationship. As time passed and we got to know each other again, our friendship deepened past what we had shared in school; it constantly struck me just how _human_ Percy was. That might seem like an odd observation, but it was coming from a person who had spent the majority of her life standing Percy on a pedestal. My love for him was never any less, but by month's end I found it had shifted, altered into something new. And it was hard coming to terms with, but it was true all the same.  
  
Other times, however, I envied him. For much of my recovery I was unable to do much of anything except sit and observe, so my eyes followed Percy everywhere. It was plain to see the quiet sense of happiness that pervaded his presence whenever Penelope was near, to hear the pride and love in his voice when he spoke of her. They were clearly very happy together, despite the strain the war was putting on their lives, and to witness it made my heart ache. I no longer wished that Percy was mine—I had put an end to that long ago. I just wished that I could know his kind of happiness. The truth was that I really didn't have any friends, no one that I could say I was close to, and I yearned for the sort of closeness that Percy and Penelope shared. I won't deny it—I was very lonely. And I envied Percy, envied what he had with Penelope, because I was afraid I would never experience it.  
  
As for Penelope? It was stranger still than my new relationship with Percy. She, a girl I had hardly known while at Hogwarts, someone I had once nearly viewed as a rival, in time became the sister I'd never had. We discovered that we had quite a bit in common, not least our love for books and pointless discussions on the workings of the universe. She was very friendly and likable, patient to the extreme, and possessed of a rather sarcastic, cerebral sense of humor that I found very appealing. She was there—along with Percy—to help me take my first tottering steps after my painful bone fusion therapy was through. She was there to comfort me after I had my first post-attack glimpse of myself in a mirror… to counsel and advise and above all see me through the difficult days of my recovery. I'm not sure if I would have healed half as well as I did, both physically and emotionally, if it hadn't been for Penelope. I came to care for her very much and to this day value her highly as one of my closest friends.   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
"You loved him," Penelope commented one day, completely out of the blue, as we worked on the exercises meant to strengthen my legs.  
  
"What?" I spluttered, utterly taken aback, the bandage over my half-healed right eye nearly falling off my face.  
  
She smiled in slight amusement as she carefully twisted my left calf to the right; I gritted my teeth and endured the necessary discomfort. "Percy, I mean. You loved him at Hogwarts, didn't you? And you still do."  
  
I remembered too late that Penelope was the most observant and insightful person I had ever met. Part of me would have been surprised if she _hadn't_ noticed—but then, if she had made the connection even while we were still in school, when we hardly knew each other, who was to say that Percy himself hadn't noticed?  
  
Something twisted in my gut, and I was suddenly so red-faced I could barely look Penelope in the eye. She let go of my leg and leaned back on her heels, looking up at me thoughtfully. There was no reproach in her voice when she spoke. "You were the only true friend he had in Gryffindor—he used to tell me that, sometimes," she said. "Why did you never say anything?"  
  
"Because he was meant for you," I said softly, looking down at the floor, not caring that I had just confirmed her initial question.  
  
And that was that. Penelope never mentioned it again.  
  
If I could have foreseen anything about my stay with Percy and Penelope Weasley, I never would have guessed that the wife of my one true love would eventually become my closest confidante and best friend. Some things just take you by surprise like that.   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
And other things sneak up on you.  
  
It turned out that Percy and Penelope weren't the only wizards in the area. Their next-door-neighbor was also a wizard—"and a lawyer, too, if you can believe it," Penelope informed me one afternoon as she hurried back and forth between the den and the foyer. It was the end of my first week under her care, and she had just received a page from St. Mungo's asking her to please come and assist with an emergency. She was slightly nettled over it and had called her neighbor to see if he could stay with me while she was gone. "He finished law school in half the normal amount of time and runs his practice out of his home. Name's Terry Maguire, he was Head Boy, left Hogwarts two years before you did—do you remember him?"  
  
I had only vague recollections, and said so.  
  
Penelope shot me a wry smile as she shrugged into her nurses' robes, throwing them on over her Muggle clothing. "Never believe anyone who tells you that Hufflepuffs are all a bunch of dunderheads. Terry's the most brilliant person I've ever known—even more so than Percy."  
  
Terry Maguire proved to be a man of average height with a shock of sandy blonde hair, intelligent blue eyes, and a ready smile—not at all the serious academic I had expected. Much to my surprise, we got along famously. During the hour Penelope was gone we chatted, swapped stories about our respective jobs, and watched a bit of television—Penelope being a Muggle-born, she had insisted on having one. Not once did he look at me with pity in his eyes for my condition, nor did he treat me as if I was a delicate object to be handled carefully, as Percy tended to do—not that I blamed Percy for that. When Penelope returned home, I found that I was sad to see Terry go. Observing that we had got on well together, Penelope reassured me that I didn't have to worry about him being a stranger; Terry was a good friend and usually came over for dinner once a week.  
  
I ended up seeing a great deal more of him than that, however—in fact, Terry soon took to visiting at least once a day, sometimes more. During his lunch hour he would wheel me out to the garden Penelope kept up and sit with me there, feeding me spoonfuls of soup in between bites of his own food until I was able to use my hands again. In the evenings he simply kept me company, talking with me while Penelope worked in the kitchen or listening to the stories Percy read me. And on the weekends, when the weather was good, he would roll me out for a walk through the neighborhood so I could take in the air.  
  
I grew to rely heavily on his support, and I enjoyed his company tremendously. Terry and I found that we could talk about everything under the sun, and we often did; we spent a great deal of our time together simply talking. He was very kind, extremely intelligent, and dedicated to his work and friends—he wasn't afraid of doing what it took to get the job done or to help someone in need, qualities that had obviously influenced his sorting into Hufflepuff. I never ceased to be amazed at how easily he could make me laugh when I believed I would never laugh again, or at how unfailingly cheerful he always was. When it came to my rehabilitation Terry was my loudest cheerleader; his unfailing encouragement and support came to mean more to me than I first realized. In short, Terry came to inspire any number of new and unfamiliar feelings in me, the strangeness of which was only exacerbated by the knowing smile Penelope took to wearing around Terry and me whenever she thought I didn't see.  
  
It's funny, the way things work out sometimes, the way you least expect them to.   
  
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
Finally the day arrived when Penelope had done all she could for me and I could function on my own again. A final trip to St. Mungo's declared me fit to work again. There was a residual weakness in my hands and lower legs, a faint scar across my face, and a new need for glasses, but otherwise I was as healed of my ordeal as I ever would be. I was due to return to the Ministry the next Monday and Terry, who had been considering renting out the upstairs rooms of his house, had offered them to me. Percy and Penelope threw me a little congratulatory party, which was attended by Terry and a few others I had met during my convalescence, such as Percy's parents, Penelope's older brother Anthony, and Roger Davies, an old school friend of Penelope's.  
  
Afterwards the four of us—me, Penelope, Percy, and Terry—set about the task of getting me installed next door. When we were through, Penelope hugged me and implored that I should visit often; Percy simply shook my hand and assured me that I was always welcome. Neither would accept my thanks for their kindness and hospitality. And as I watched my old school friend and love walk away, it occurred to me that the touch of his hand didn't thrill me as much as I had thought it would. That the smile on Terry's face warmed me in ways I never would have imagined.  
  
You learn a lot of things in life. My experiences after the attack on Diagon Alley taught me more about the nature of love. Once I had learned from Percy Weasley that love means stepping back if it allows the one you love a greater happiness. Now I had learned from Terry Maguire that your first love isn't necessarily your last. I learned that people can and do change, even if they seem set in stone… that even those you deify are human, too. I learned that it was okay to simply be friends with Percy. And I learned where my true happiness lay.  
  
What other challenges I'll have to face during this war against Voldemort, I don't know. But I do know this, that in some perverse way I owe him thanks—for guiding me to a love I can now call my own.   
  



End file.
